Paraplegic (COMPLETED)

Chapter 7

Mrs. Slazenger is head instructor of drama club—emphasis on the "drama" part. She's this crazy old bat who always seems to have a new spin on her life story about how she came over here to the United States from Russia. The latest version that I heard was how she managed to escape a sinking immigration ship and swim to a deserted island that was some twenty miles from the wreckage site. Supposedly, she fed on sea urchins and coconuts for nearly two years before a cargo ship sailing a few miles off the coast saw the smoke from her campfire and commissioned an immediate rescue. It's all a bit hard for me to swallow. Although, the next version I hear, I halfway expect her to say she befriended a volleyball while on that island.

As I rush through the double doors of the auditorium, Slazenger is on stage along with several other students setting up props for tonight's play. No! I missed the photo shoot! And now it's awkward because my hurried entrance brought attention to myself. Slazenger looks my way. "Is there something you need?" Her thick Russian accent makes every word she says barely understandable.

"Um—I was hoping to catch the Blue Jays' photo shoot. I got held up after school; otherwise, I would've been here long ago."

"Mmm, yes. There were a bunch of loud and bothersome girls here, standing in front of camera, making weird faces with lips."

"Do you know how long ago it ended?"

She places a hand on her hip. "Oh, I say, ten minutes ago."

Wonderful. Just wonderful. I missed the whole thing by ten minutes. Ten minutes! If father would have let me drive back to school I could've made it. Or I could've bailed on detention. Or I could've not gone home for a change of clothes. I could have done something—something—even if it only would have saved me a few minutes. I could have at least made it in time for the final shoot and got in on one picture.

I'm really starting to hate Rhea more and more.

* * *

Back in the gymnasium, it's getting super close to tip-off. I wrap a blue and white hair scrunchy around my blonde curls, twisting it into a ponytail. Xander is already on the court warming up from the foul line. He pauses, arms in shooting position, and looks my way. I flash a flirtatious smile and wave. He smiles back, then continues with his free throws.

A fellow cheerleader, Tess Earhart, skips over to me. "So what went down after the food fight?" she says. "I didn't even see you at the photo shoot."

I roll my eyes, letting out a frustrated sigh. "It was so stupid. I got sent to the principal's office."

"What? Why you?"

"I dunno. It was so unfair. I wasn't even the one who started the fight. There was this girl: Rhea." I quickly scan the bleachers for her; I don't see her. "She slammed into me, which caused me to spill the remnants of my lunch all over me. I went home after that to get a change of clothes, only to find my parents had revoked the graduation present that they were going to give me—a sports car of all things—because they were informed by the school that I had wrecked the cafeteria."

"Wow! Sounds like you've had a fun day, huh?"

"You simply have no idea."

She glances around the gym, seemingly for someone in particular. "Where's Aurora? It's almost game time."

"She's not coming."

"What!" Her outburst catches the attention of nearby fans. I grab her by the shoulder and usher her away from the bleachers.

"She won't be here to cheer. Mayer ordered her to clean up the cafeteria, lest he slap her with a fine; one I can barely afford let alone her."

"That is totally uncool. We need her!"